Trials & Tribulations
by marlexa
Summary: "Tough guy" feeling superior only to be reduced to a stuttering fool ... Disclaimer: The story of Mulan is not my property, but I still us it as my playground
As if it were not enough to have Chi Fu breathing down my neck – this man has a chip on his shoulders the size of Mount Tai and he cannot stand me, so he'll use anything to spoil my credentials. I had only recently been named captain by General Li, and that he happens to be my father did not exactly help matters with the counsellor who bluntly calls it nepotism. But to top it I had gotten the worst bunch of hopeless recruits a soldier ever had to deal with. And if _that_ were not enough, there was Fa Ping. The baby. The weakling. The trouble maker.

Oh yes, they all were trouble, the whole sad lot of them. It's such a common thing to see a man who isn't exactly weak and old and ugly and call them 'Pretty Boy' or worse the moment you set eyes on them, but I could deal with _that_ and I did. Quite easily too: give them a problem to solve that just slightly surpasses their skills and they will grumble and gnash their teeth but eventually show their superiors some respect.

No, it wasn't insubordination that made the training of Ping worse than that of his colleagues. It was incapability combined with physical weakness and the fact that the others picked on him from the start – his own fault too, for what must he do on arrival than brag and start a brawl that got them all punished on his behalf. By me, their instructor, who was to be the nemesis of them all for the next few weeks, but of course it was him they bore the grudge.

He was a failure, a loser, he would never fit in. I could see nothing but trouble ahead, nothing but nuisance, nothing but problems, a big mess. While the others still got _something_ right, he failed each and every exercise; I saw him struggling with the easiest tasks, he was just not made of the stuff soldiers need to be built of. Strong. Enduring. Prudent. He was simply dead weight.

To own the truth, I thought I hated his very guts. He was the foremost reason that Chi Fu's report was going to be disastrous. But worst of all was my beginning to feel protective of him, and that's just what I did not need at all. What, take pity on a sad little failure of a boy, and exactly why? Because of the look in his eyes it seemed, this adoring, worshipping, longing look. It had got a lot to do with that. A great deal. Very, very much. Everything, in fact.

Of course I had seen this kind of thing before, same reason as why others were acting so abusively, talking so disparagingly. 'Pretty Boy' did not affect me, but a look like that was quite a different matter. Never had I met with such sheer emotion behind any guy's eyes.

There was danger lurking there, for I was starting to care. When he broke down and I picked up his weights, I was mad, totally livid; but on my own stupid self! I felt the impulse of picking _him_ up instead, of carrying him back to the camp and kiss the tears of shame and defeat from his cheeks to top it, instead of manhandling him and show him where's it at.

This would never do. The last thing on earth I needed was developing feelings for a useless brat, be they pity or compassion or whatever lay behind them. Ping had started to trouble my tranquility way too much; I needed a calm head and a clear mind, and thinking about the hopeless little slip of a lad was not on the agenda. The only way to save myself from that kind of distress was sending him away from camp, which of course meant from me and the weakness I had begun to develop.

When I told him to leave, because he would never be a soldier, not in a thousand years, he was sulking. And then he was going to show me, big time. And he did, too. His stubbornness made him solve the problem that had them all puzzled before, with a quickness of wit that made up entirely for his lack of strength. Still it was a sobering insight that it needed some harsh words, not to mention treatment, to set the brains to work. Yet he _had_ done it, and that's what counted.

But don't you think that things were getting easier for me from then on. With Ping turned into an accomplished trainee and the rest of the troop following suit, my real tribulations were only just starting.

I had not been able to overlook him when he was a failure and a pain in the neck, but now that he was an able soldier I certainly did not succeed any better in turning my eyes elsewhere. Was it because the longing in his eyes did not subside and that he was still looking at me with this smoldering expression? I could tell that the physical attraction had by no means abated – increased rather, now that he was able to strike back with a vengeance.

All of this could have been neglected – it was not that rare that young boys in the army developed a crush on some strong and handsome comrade, let alone their superiors – not that I want to call myself a hunk or would like to boast in any way, but then there is such a thing as false modesty and I am not holding with _that_ either. So let's agree that I _am_ rather well-built. Ping's infatuation would have been neither unheard of nor in any way unusual.

It was _my_ reaction to it, if reaction it was. The closer I became to Ping, the more I appreciated his astuteness, and the more I fancied the grace of his movements, the beauty of his supple figure, tiny though it was, and the expression of his eyes, when he cast me one of those side-looks out from under his long straight eyelashes.

I kept wondering what his full lips might feel like when touching them with my own. Right, I began to fantasize about Ping, I wanted to know what it was like to feel him, touch this soft light skin of his on his bared back, what it might be like to hold him , sense his lithe body against mine, whether it would melt right into my arms. And what it would be like to kiss him, feel his lips touching mine , feel his arms around my strong frame, then I would open the top-knot on his head and let his hair flow freely, tumbling down, brushing my bare chest….

I was in a fever and I truly hated it. Here I had to take responsibility for an entire troop and lead them into battle, not space out and moon over a little boy. And _he_ did nothing to make it any easier for me, with these liquid sultry eyes and full, pouting lips. I could have done something about it if he had done it consciously and actually tried to seduce me, but as he was pure innocence and apparently did not even know which state he set me in, even if he might have not been in doubt about his own, I was helpless. No, Ping had not got a clue what he did to me, and this added heftily to my dilemma.

Of course there was no question of sending him away from camp after he had made it top of class, no less. Where the others were using brute force, Ping was resourceful and clever and all the stuff a great general was made of, and I was fully able to admire and appreciate _that_. What I did not like and what was always an imminent threat was that I was going to lose it and make a pass on him. After all, this also was not unheard of in the army, with no women around and all these kind of excuses.

And what then? Was he going to lose the stunning trust showing in his eyes, change it for mistrust? Was he going to lose this overwhelming innocence and pureness? Was he going to tumble into my arms and then try to take advantage of my obsession? Whatever it was, it must be wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

One thing for sure, there was no returning to easy camaraderie after my realization of all those consequences ahead if, I were to try something, and of my own miserable state of mind – and, I have to own, body too – if I did _not_ , and complications were inevitable. I did not need any more trouble than I and all of us were already in, what with war raging on the borders and the Huns on their way.

I had to get him out of my mind, out of my entire system which he had begun to poison already, short as our acquaintance had been. I really needed to concentrate on more important matters at hand – such as leading my troop to the Tung Shao pass and assist the platoon under my father's command. Chi Fu told me my men were not ready while I felt they were, but then we were ordered to move camp and so we did. I really ought to forget about Ping and think about making most of my men to aid the army to full advantage. Or only think about Ping as a means to do so. As I said before, he was a bright lad, he certainly would become a great strategist in time. But I did not want to brood about him on a personal level, thank you very much. As if I did not already have problems enough.

I don't want to elaborate on what we found at the Tung Shao pass and what I felt on learning my father had been slain, with the Huns attacking so soon after; and I do not especially want to recollect all the terror and shock, when Ping caused that terrible avalanche that ended the Hun's force and almost ended my life too. When I thought I was going to breathe my last, all I kept thinking about was Ping's face, distorted in fear and anguish, when he reached for me in vain, and I knew for sure, better than ever before, that I loved him and he loved me and we were not even meant to be friends after all, for I was going to perish there and then.

What shall I say about opening my eyes to find his face next to mine again, and how I felt about having been saved by the craziest creature in the world, who did all those wrong things and proved them to be right? He had saved me, and just like that he had saved China too. Not that I ought to name myself first, but perhaps, just perhaps it felt that way round for Ping?

But he was wounded, and for a terrible eternity of a moment it seemed as if he was not going to pull through. I was desperate, but then this state of mind was a shared one. All of the comrades held their breath, when the surgeon came out of Ping's tent and told me - - -

I did not believe my ears. Neither did I believe my eyes, when I entered the tent and saw for myself – and _when_ I did, I just asked myself why I had to struggle through all of this, coming to terms with this unknown side of myself, when in the end it was all for nothing? When in the end, Ping, the thorn in my side, turned out to be a woman and I need not have troubled my mind uselessly. At least not on _that_ behalf….

I was dumbfounded; the boy I had developed feelings for – yet still kind of patronizing  
– was actually a woman! Now each and every one of our actions must have a different significance.

A woman had turned out to be such a valiant soldier. A woman had saved my life. A woman had proved her loyalty to me, her reliability – and, undeniably, her love.

A Woman. Had. Proved. She. Was. The. Better. Man.

And I was obliged to execute her according to the law.

The sadness in her eyes pierced my heart like an arrow. That she could really believe I would harm her when I owed her my life was bad, but not as bad as her belief that I would harm her at all. She was Ping, for crying out loud! Ping, who had just proved beyond doubt he was worthy of my trust – just because he turned out to be a woman by name of Mulan, did that _really_ make a different person out of him/her? And yet I had to treat her differently, treat her as a traitor, had to act accordingly. We were watched by very unfriendly eyes!

She called out to me and I was incapable of responding. I had to get my sword, all I was allowed to say was through my sword.

I knew her heart was broken. And that broke mine.

I had only one chance of saving her, and it was she who had enabled me to do so by saving my life first. I had a debt to repay. It was my only excuse, if not in the eyes of the law, at least in the eyes of honor. Nobody would ever know that I could not have harmed a hair on this head anyway and would rather have neglected my station and honor than act any different. But I had to abandon her on that mountainside not to endanger her any farther. My position was not stable or powerful enough to protect her against the law and its hostile agent who was counting points to tell against me. Pulling rank is not an option when yours is inferior.

What did I care for consequences? They might as well execute me for having broken the law. I had lost my father. And now I had to leave the love of my life behind, because of conventions, because of the law – and because it was not possible to go on like before with her gender revealed. I had to leave her, and I knew without a doubt, I would never, ever find another one who meant as much to me as Ping. Mulan. As if it wasn't bad enough as it was, did it have to be so confusing?

We had to do this procession, this celebration of our victory – _our_ victory, for crying out loud! Just whose victory had it been? My mind was wrapped in a very dark cloud, seeing and hearing all the efforts that had been made in order to honor the great and worthy soldiers, who had done nothing to earn this accolade, yet leaving out the one who had done it all as if this person never even existed. I was in no mood to be reconciled.

So when someone rode up to me, shouting at me to stop this whole show, I did not take to it kindly. Neither did I act gracefully, when – and again I thought I could not believe my eyes – the troublemaker turned out to be Mulan, the woman I had been thinking about all the time since I left her, whom I pictured on her way back home, feeling lonely and full of shame, heartbroken, crying, and, perhaps, a little yearning for - - -

But here she was, shouting her head off, making a scene, trying to make me stop the festivities, because the Huns were not defeated at all and could attack any time. Attracting attention in a most reckless way! In a moment she would be seized and taken into custody, and then it would only be a matter of minutes for her to be executed despite my denial to do so, and I would be absolutely powerless to prevent it. I felt so sure that she would be sacrificed to make the pinnacle of the celebration, but she did not listen to me when I told her to turn and go away, she just demanded to be listened to. Well, she was never one to obey orders, was she? It was due to her – Ping's – defiance, that we were here at all. Telling me she was the same person as ever, as if that could have escaped my notice! I am not in my dotage yet, and after all, her various insubordinations lay not _that_ far back.

But I could do nothing without danger of being arrested myself. All I could do was bypass her and ignore her and command her to go away – and did I not know she would not heed any danger to her own person, when she found it her duty to salvage the emperor and his subjects? Of course I did, but I was not allowed the leisure for thinking about it, before all hell broke loose.

And of course, she took over. Man, was there ever an accomplished strategist! Calling out to her mates, giving orders – and they…

They were following her like – like she wasn't any different to them than before, like she still was their old comrade; they trusted her and stood by her – and suddenly it fell like scales from my eyes – she really WAS the same as ever, had always been , and I was the fool who just had nor realized it. It was MY choice whether to treat her the same way or not. The difference was _I_ – not _she_.

So I, too, followed her lead. And it was the best team ever going to the rescue, when the emperor was seized. And all the glory of that victory was due to her and her handling of my men.

I was brushed away when our nemesis approached us, accusing her of having made an attempt on _his_ life, as if he were the ultimate personage in the empire, center of the universe or what? brushed away by none less than the Emperor himself. I tried to explain, but he was having none of it, reproaching Mulan for all she had done – and then bowing to her in gratitude. And in accordance with the Emperor everyone else bowed to her too, and I felt more than a little dizzy – not only owing to her having dropped on my head earlier. Now, if she had jumped me in a different way…useless reflections on would or could have beens – I kind of just wasn't myself, or was I?

The comrades were jubilant and proud beyond bearing. When they embraced her I was incapable of acting likewise. _They_ were just cheering and celebrating their comrade as a hero, with never a trace of doubt about their feelings at all. But how could I take her in my arms and say: "Well, yeah, right, so you are a hero who just saved us all and I'm proud to be your pal!" when all I wanted to tell her that for all she _was_ a hero and I _was_ in in awe of her, all I wanted to do was take her in my arms and kiss her, I wanted to make her mine, not because she was a hero, for crying out loud, not even because she was a beautiful woman, but because I had wanted to do it all along!

So how could I do it now? I had foregone my chances, she would never be available for me now! How could I tell her now, when everyone was looking at her in awe: "I admire you, but deep down in my heart I don't care whether you are a hero or a coward, whether you are the most famous and sought after woman of the nation or just a slip of a girl with no importance at all. I do admire you, yes, but for me you are just the most beautiful woman I ever beheld, the most adorable creature in the world, the most reliable friend and partner I could ever think of. And you would still be, if you were not the greatest hero of the nation at all, because for me you are the most important person in the universe!"

I could not. What would it have made of me? A fortune hunter, or whatever a man is called, who was taking advantage of being connected with a famous and revered person. She sure was going to be showered with honors! Had I spoken before, when she still was somebody with no significance to anyone but those who esteemed her for personal reasons, it would not have looked bad, but now it would be so …. Cheap. Insincere.

Taking advantage of the situation, when she had been revealed as a woman never had crossed my mind. No, I'm not one of those really good persons who would never do anything like that, I'm not a saint and not a beneficent man, it was just – well, there was this beautiful woman, no doubt, but what did that really mean to me when I just had lost Ping, who had been foremost in my reflections for quite some time by then? I still had not identified this Mulan-woman with my man Ping. But had I shown any kind of interest then it certainly would have made my recent concern more credible, wouldn't it?

Yet all of my most honorable explanations felt a bit stale, when I looked the fact in the face, that I was just too much of a dolt to react in a reasonable way. I was reduced to a stuttering fool, and when I saw her expectant face, I was done for. I could not utter one single word that made sense, let alone do what I longed so much to do – and what she clearly wanted me to do either. And to top it all, I made such a fool out of myself right in front of the Emperor, no less. And then, seeing her ride away disappointedly and – quite rightfully und justified, pissed off at me - to be rebuked by His Eminence for being such a dork was, well, disconcerting. "Here she goes and you will never find such a one again," or "Go after her at once, you jackass, and ask her if she has any use for a klutz like you!" Now, of course he did express himself in a somewhat more elegant way, but that was what he meant, and it was what I clearly heard behind his dignified and exalted words.

But how could I help myself, getting tongue-tied the moment I came face to face with her – and, after all, if I wanted to propose I could not leave _that_ to her either! Like throwing me in front of her saddle and riding away through the night – she _had_ done it, only in a different context. But certainly not where it concerned matrimonial matters. Being a hero did not mean she was not a woman with the right of a woman to be wooed, no matter how much she had deceived me and the rest of us making us believe she were a man, showing us that all those muscles did not make us a superior race. She ought to be wooed and courted as was her due – but did she want to be asked by _me_? That was the question. Any other woman might; well, even with Ping I did not really doubt he had always preferred me to other guys – but Mulan? When I had just given proof of what kind of an idiot I really was?

Don't you believe it got any better when I next met her – of course I hurried after her, following as close as I could, but never quite fast enough to overtake her and give her the chance to refuse me on the spot, if you get my meaning. On seeing her again in her father's house, the cat took my tongue yet again. I was hopeless. She laughed at me this time around, quite blatantly, of course she knew what I really wanted to tell her, to ask her, to _do_ to her, and what I again made a capital mess of. I think I'm not really a ladies' man after all. _She_ was all assuredness, and _I_ was a sad excuse of a man. But somehow, in the end, it did not matter. She is such a great and adorable person, she liked me in spite of my dumbness and foolish behavior all the same. Like she had done before.

But then again, her big advantage was that she had always seen me as a man and known me as a man – she did not have to justify her feelings to herself for being all wrong, and when they turned out to be not wrong at all suddenly find out they still were a bit awkward, having started in such a way.

Like I said before, I always knew that Ping meant trouble for me. Now look at what he has reduced me to, what he has made of me – other than the happiest man alive!


End file.
